


Surreality?

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-27
Updated: 2004-01-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 02:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Just something that came to me during a boring class in college, it's kinda those thoughts you have after really hot sex in the lucid moments between awake and asleep.





	Surreality?

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Momentarily suspend all belief in time and reality, and just picture the scene.

 

The view to begin with is of indistinct lines and objects all captured in a dull orange glow. Soft music can be heard playing in the background; one of those tunes that is incessantly familiar yet at the same time, completely unrecognisable. The scene pans out and shapes begin to form from the lines; pieces of furniture and objects all impossibly immobile and undisturbed. Slowly the view travels to the right, leaving the furniture behind, and falls gracefully on to two flawless bodies, moving in perfect unison with one another. 

 

The smaller of the two is on top, rocking backwards and forwards with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, his back arched in euphoria. The view travels the length of his body, lingering on the thighs that serve as his anchor; the muscles rising and falling in time with his movements, becoming hard like steel cables and then falling back beneath his skin. The view changes to the man below, slowly taking in the beautiful body and capturing the glisten of perspiration on his torso. Briefly it flicks to a clenched fist, inside of which is a rumpled mound of bed sheet. His mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes roam the body of his lover, drinking in the sight of the angel above him. Flickers of emotion leap to the surface and then just as quickly, sink down into the chocolately depths of eyes that are deeper than the sea. Otherwise his face is a mask of ecstasy, one reserved for the boy above him and no other. 

 

The music in the background gets louder and the body on top picks up the pace, rising and falling erratically in between moans of pleasure. The view traces a trickle of sweat down his spine as he bounces harder still, and finally the music reaches a soaring crescendo as cries of rapture, echo throughout the loft.

Back to reality

Justin slumped on top of Brian, his breathing heavy and laboured.

“Jesus Christ, Justin.” Brian muttered vaguely. Rubbing his head against Brian’s neck Justin murmured something unintelligible, his hands moving to Brian’s shoulders to act as leverage. Expelling a heavy breath he got off Brian, moving to lie by his side.

“That was…” Brian trailed off, passing a hand over his eyes and blinking furiously to banish the stars that were spinning behind the lids. 

“Yeah…” Justin sighed wearily. 

“Justin?” Brian asked at length. 

“mmm?” Justin answered sleepily. 

 

There was a pregnant pause in which Brian struggled with emotions that he had never known existed in himself.

“Brian? Did you say something?” Justin mumbled again, his voice thick with fatigue and his head pushed into the soft warmness of the pillow. 

“No.” Brian answered, kicking himself inside. “Go to sleep, sunshine,” he murmured softly, brushing a hand over the boy’s forehead to get the sweaty bangs out of his eyes. 

“mmm.” Justin answered again, barely audibly. Brian moved to lay back on his own side of the bed, his back flat against the mattress and his legs bent up high in an upside down v shape. Staring at the ceiling of his expensive loft he attempted to contemplate the spot Justin filled in his life, and the significance of this against the soft snores of said boy. For a long time he lay awake in the darkness, thoughts swirling in his head like turbulent thunder clouds vying for a storm. What did it all mean? Did his feelings now mean that he had actually fallen for the boy? Fallen – such a weak word, with such honourless connotations. Fallen… utterly, helplessly. Even worse. But he couldn’t help the way that he felt, right? It wasn’t as if he had gone without a fight. A laugh – or rather a small puff of air escaped from him as he recalled his first weeks of knowing Justin; how for most of them, he couldn’t even keep Justin’s name in his head; ironically now, he couldn’t keep it out. 

 

Turning sideways he took in the sight of his lover, drinking in every bit. Was it really so bad to admit that Justin was more than mediocre? More than a quick fuck? 

 

Yes, he decided. It was. “I’m Brian fucking Kinney,” he muttered aloud. 

“thass” pause as he shifts in his sleep. “nice briyan…ihym brian fuckin Kinney too…” Brian chortled at Justin’s sleep talk; he sounded both very drunk and very tired. His manner turned sour again. “I don’t do love.” He thought to himself. 

 

Gradually, with this untruth circling in his mind, his eyes became heavy and his brain began to cloud with the fog of sleep. “I am Brian, fucking Kinney. Love is an illusion for fools.” he said to himself. And as sleep claimed him, his last waking thought as he drifted into slumber was that “maybe…”, “maybe, I’m a fool.”


End file.
